


Eyeliner

by SatyrSyd37



Series: Boys and Their Makeup [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows Kyoutani wears eyeliner, and everyone knows not to bug him about it. Except Yahaba, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyeliner

**Author's Note:**

> i just really love the idea that Kyoutani's dark circles are eyeliner? that is all

Kyoutani wasn't sure when he started wearing eyeliner. It just kind of...happened. When he got up in the morning, he brushed his teeth, washed his face, and lined his eyes. No one had ever questioned it. He did get some odd looks from people, but a good glare would usually scare them away. Kyoutani thought the eyeliner helped with that.

Since no one had dared to ask about his eyeliner before, Kyoutani didn't expect the volleyball team to ever bring it up. The first years looked too intimidated to ask him about it, the third years were too absorbed in their own problems - especially their captain. Anyway, Kyoutani was pretty sure Oikawa wore some kind of makeup too. Maybe Yahaba too. No ones face could look that perfect all the time.

So Kyoutani never expected anyone to bug him about it. Until, after practice one day, Yahaba did exactly that.

Back in the locker room, Kyoutani was putting away his jersey when Yahaba walked up to him. He pointed unabashedly at Kyoutani’s face and said, “Your eyeliner’s smudged.”

The room went silent, as if Yahaba had broken some great taboo.

“Eh? I don't care,” Kyoutani muttered, looking back at his bag. His eyeliner was smudged half the time anyways; he didn’t get what Yahaba’s problem was.

“You should fix it.”

“Why do you care?” Kyoutani growled.

“It's annoying me.”

Kyoutani glared at the other boy, but Yahaba just raised his eyebrows, holding his stance. He was acutely aware of everyone else evacuating the room.

Ever since their match against Karasuno, Yahaba had been immune to his intimidation. It was incredibly irritating. He'd thought about knocking some sense into him with a punch, but the truth was, despite his looks and what people assumed about him, he'd never been able to bring himself to actually hit someone. Although, if he were to hit someone, it would definitely be Yahaba.

Maybe Yahaba would leave him alone if he just ignored him. So he grabbed his bag, pushed past Yahaba, and stormed out the door.

He barely made it ten steps when Yahaba yanked his arm back. “What the hell?” he shouted, whipping around face him.

“Let me fix it for you,” the setter insisted.

Kyoutani didn't understand him at all. He tried to yank his arm out of Yahaba's grip, but he was stronger than he looked. “What? No - ”

“It'll just take a second - ”

“You don't even know what you're doing!”

Yahaba rolled his eyes. “Would you just trust me?”

As Kyoutani’s skin started to heat up, he wanted to rip his arm away and run in the other direction. He couldn’t ignore Yahaba’s hand gripping his arm, or the way it sent adrenaline running through his veins. Yahaba always did this to him; he made him angry and hot and frustrated, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to pick a fight with Yahaba or do something much worse.

He wanted to run but he had a feeling Yahaba wouldn’t take no for an answer, so it was probably better to give in anyway. “Fine. Then will you leave me alone?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Kyoutani didn't know why he was agreeing to this, but before he could change his mind, one of Yahaba's hands was on his shoulder and the other on his face. Narrowing his eyes and closely inspecting Kyoutani's face, Yahaba's finger glided over Kyoutani’s cheek.

His face burned. It wasn't often anyone would invade his personal space, but here was Yahaba whose long fingers delicately dug into the skin of his cheek, right under his eyes. The tips of his fingers scraped against his hair and scalp, and it felt _nice_. He could feel the heat of Yahaba's other hand through the sleeve of his shirt, and he could hear Yahaba's shallow and quick breaths, as unsteady as his own. His eyes fluttered. No one, not even his mother, touched him quite like this. He hated that he liked it so much, that he liked stubborn, stupid Yahaba's hands running through his hair. Even if Kyoutani could bring himself to move, he wouldn't choose to pull away from Yahaba's touch.

Yahaba's hands hovered against Kyoutani's face just longer than necessary, and he removed his hands as if Kyoutani was a delicate work of art he didn't want to break.

“Fixed it,” Yahaba said, practically in a whisper. It was then Kyoutani noticed that Yahaba's face was as red as the jerseys that Nekoma team wore.

Kyoutani mumbled under his breath, trying to respond before things became weird.

“What'd you say?”

“T-thanks,” he stuttered. “Even though it wasn’t necessary…”

“Please. You looked like a racoon with eyeliner running past your nose like that,” Yahaba teased.

Kyoutani huffed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It definitely was.”

“Was not.”

“Was _to_.”

“Was not!”

“Fine,” Yahaba admitted, throwing up his hands in defeat. “You win. It wasn’t that bad. It was _worse_.”

Stunned by Yahaba's retort, Kyoutani let out a noise of distaste. Yahaba laughed, loud and obnoxious, but Kyoutani couldn’t bring himself to be mad, with Yahaba smiling a real, sincere smile. Kyoutani’s heart thudded loudly in his chest.

Fuck.

They walked out of the gym together in silence, Yahaba content with his victory over Kyoutani. They were the last ones to leave, so Yahaba made sure to turn off the lights and close all the doors. Kyoutani felt obligated to wait for him, so he awkwardly followed Yahaba around until he was finished, and then began to walk home with him. They walked shoulder to shoulder, so close they were almost touching.

He glanced at Yahaba. He stared straight ahead, and Kyoutani was amused to see his face was still bright red. He looked kind of...cute.

 _Fuck_.

Kyoutani was the kind of person who rarely thought out his actions. He let instinct control him. And his instinct told him to reach out and take Yahaba's hand.

Yahaba froze in his tracks, and looked down at their hands, awkwardly clasped together.

Kyoutani looked away, suddenly regretting following his instincts so blindly. “My hands were cold,” he mumbled.

Kyoutani turned back around when he heard Yahaba giggling. “That’s - the _lamest_ excuse - I've ever heard,” he sputtered between laughs. Kyoutani would have ran away from embarrassment if Yahaba hadn't tightened his grip on Kyoutani's hand.

Now he was confused; Yahaba was laughing at him, but -

“It's okay. My hands are cold, too,” Yahaba said with a smile.

His warm hand clung to Kyoutani's as they walked home. His setter’s hands were rough and calloused but long and delicate, completely wrapping Kyoutani's wide, flat hand in his own. They didn't say anything to each other for a long time, simply basking in the other's warmth and relishing the peacefulness of the evening.

Suddenly Yahaba interrupted the silence. “Why do you wear eyeliner?”

Kyoutani shrugged.

Yahaba squeezed Kyoutani's hand and said, “W-well I like it.”

Kyoutani couldn't help but grin. He thought he found a new reason to draw dark circles around his eyes. Maybe next time, he'd smudge it on purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> *makes every comparison to red to nekoma bc i am trash*
> 
> thank you for reading! comments and kudos always appreciated!
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com) if you feel like it! i'm always down to talk about kyouhaba


End file.
